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The Witch's Devious Attraction

[Mature content, R18, no rape] "Who has done this to you?" Azel asked softly, his jaw tightly clenched as he stared into her teary, bright amber eyes, his fingers itching to caress her cheek. "Tell me," he whispered, "and I will sever his head and present it to you upon a platter of gold..." *** Her birth alone left her mother in a terribly weakened state... Adelia, the only daughter and child of the Veldon house, was… strange. Neither her birth mother nor her beloved father, nor even the witches posing as servants in the castle knew what she truly was. Adelia herself was clueless. She blamed herself for her mother's illness, and with each passing day, both grew worse—the affliction and her guilt. For her mother's sake and for hers as well, Adelia willingly enters into a ruthless deal, a path to salvation that was bound to lead to her demise, one that would deny her the experience of love. Still, she didn't care for the consequences and sacrifices, for the need to cure her mother was far greater… But fate, ever mocking her resolve, throws her onto the path of an insolent stranger, a man with the power to alter her desires... *** Obsidian armor. Strong. Ruthless. These three words defined a single knight, striking fear into the hearts of all who heard of him. Countless tales spoke of his exploits, yet his identity remained shrouded in mystery. Azel Latham, the embodiment of this figure, was known by none, for his face had never been seen in battle. With a single stroke, he could fell twenty warriors in an instant. Azel had many secrets. His presence was strange, his appearance even more peculiar. A mischievous and playful look on the outside but a shattered and enclosed heart within. …It would not remain frozen for long, however, for an amusing encounter with a captivating woman would leave him wanting more… **Cover art does not belong to me, credit to the artist!

Faechan · ファンタジー
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131 Chs

Bad Omen [1]

A tall, dark-haired, dark-skinned man dressed in a richly embroidered doublet, a luxurious velvet jacket and fine linen trousers stood in front of a polished mahogany desk in a highly luxurious study.

His eyes were closed and in his arms were a good pile of what looked to be important documents, but what was most notable about him was how still he stood, almost as if he were a statue.

"Hmm…" someone hummed. The sound had come from behind the desk. "Are you sure these are all the reports from the spies, Hyran?"

"I am absolutely certain, Your Majesty." The dark skinned man replied without so much as a twitch of his eyebrows. "If there were others, it would have been delivered to you without delay."

"A shame." The man behind the desk sighed heavily. "There is no information worth my time here."

"As it seems, Sire." Hyran replied. "The Empire is peaceful."